It was September 10, 2001. I had just drank half a bottle of rumplemint with my best friend, you know, so he would still be sober enough to make it back home. I had a nice buzz going, but I was celebrating my last few days as a civilian (scheduled for bootcamp that next week) so I raided the fridge and found 21 cans of beer. And I drank everyone of them. I went to the bathroom and that's the last thing I remember before waking up on the floor in my grandmother's room the next morning and well, to say the events that transpired sobered me up pretty quickly would be pretty accurate.
Cena can't be beat because he's some unholy genetic recombinate of superstars past. I mean, you might as well call him John "Realest of the Real, Sargent Rock - Cold - A - Mania" Cena.
It was the last day of finals, freshman year of college. I hadn't drank at all in high school, started a little bit in college, but nothing like that night.
I got back to my apartment and some friends had already started drinking, including an old high school buddy who was in town visiting. He was pouring McCormick's vodka into a glass and mixing it with orange juice - and started daring me to keep up.
Not knowing what I was getting into, I dove in, mixing in vodka until we ran out of OJ, then just drinking vodka on the rocks.
At one point, one of our more veteran drinker friends warned me to slow down and I subsequently drank another just to prove a point. I don't remember exactly, but it was probably like 10-12 shots of vodka.
I ended up laying face-down on my roommate's bed with the spins, getting up every few minutes to run to the restroom to puke. I woke up the next morning and wondered who the guy was in bed next to me. It was my high school buddy.
16 years old at a friend's high school graduation party. We started the night early with warm booze I stole from my Grandpa'a liquor cabinet. Jim Beam, Peppermint Schnapps, and Blackberry Brandy. For those interested, Peppermint Schnapps does NOT mix well with Mountain Dew. Later we moved on to the kegs. We got tired of constantly filling our 16 oz. cups, so we ditched them in favor of empty milk jugs. Things get hazy after that. The last thing I remember clearly is blasting Alice In Chains through someone's car audio while having a slam dunk contest on a 9 ft. rim.
I can't believe I missed this question either. I was 14 or 15, and this was the early 80's. It was Easter Sunday. We had just had brunch with the family, and my oldest brother wanted to know if I wanted to hang out with him and his friends. Sure, why not?
Well they proceeded to go on a pub-crawl that for some reason included me. I kept getting served everywhere we went???
By the time we got to our friends house (a block down the street from our parents house) I was pretty well toasted. I remember that we were watching AWA Wrestling and one of our friends had a figure four on someone. Then we went to the kitchen table and someone busted out a spyrograph...and a pipe with something in it. Everything gets a little fuzzy after that.
I remember my brother heaving over the porch railing, and shortly(?) after I attempted to follow him home. For some reason when I looked down the block he wasn't there...so naturally I started checking in the trees. I remember getting to the street that was between our blocks. The next thing I remember is waking up at home, in the room that was being remodeled. It doesn't end there though...apparently I was a busy soul during my black out.
I apparently had a 45 minute conversation with one of my brothers friends...all the while eating easter eggs...shell and all. But NOT the blue ones...I was saving those for something special. I decided to grind them into my mom's special table cloth.
We have a picture from lunch the next day...my brother and I both in shades, and looking a little worse for the wear.
I used to live in St. Louis and I cannot possibly echo StaggerLee's and Mike Zeidler's sentiments loudly enough. Imo's Pizza is the single worst pizza-like creation known to mankind. Mr. Boffo, do NOT give in to your curiousity.